Traveling Solo: Elena's 5th Birthday

I'm remembering this day five years ago when I heard the words I'd hoped for: "It's a girl!" (to which Nathan cried in protest: "But I wanted a bwuvver!")

They hadn't wanted to know the gender until she was born. Six weeks premature, Elena was delivered by Caesarean, weighing under five pounds. She spent the first few days in neonatal ICU, and the nurses said, "She's a strong one."

I am fascinated at the incredible amount a five-year-old human knows and the rate at which they learn.

They know the nuances, vocabulary, and sentence structures of their native language--able to make complex sentences, create metaphors, analogies, and smilies (old trees are like grandmothers), and make jokes.

They have a sense of their own short history. Elena compares her present experiences to those "when I was three." "I used to know Spanish better when I was three," she told me. Or "Back then when I was three, I used to ...."

Their personalities are probably indicative of the adults they will be. This five-year-old is resilient and independent, not wanting help with things she can do herself. Once, last summer, when her older cousin Jackson was trying to help her with her seat belt, she said, "That's not your job!"

A child's memory is incredible. She can remember the names and characteristics of any animal she's ever met or seen in a book. She corrects me if I get it wrong. (Right now, she's amused that I mispronounce the word, orange--to her way of thinking--though I can barely hear the difference between mine and hers.)

Five-year-olds can instantly assess the extent to which other humans like them. On Friday, she asked me: "Is there anything you don't like about me, anything you think I should change?" Maybe she asked because she knew the answer: "You're perfect just the way you are!" or maybe she wanted reassurance for some reason. Maybe someone at school had pointed out a flaw, as children can do? Or maybe she wanted a lead in to tell me: "I like YOU just the way you are!"

Five-year-olds have enviable physical skills--climbing trees, balancing on stone ledges, squatting, somersaulting, running, even horseback riding if she's been doing it since before she could walk. Whatever "it" is, she'll do it over and over and isn't deterred by falls and flops.

A girl after my own heart, Nikon around her neck

Dancing, she has a beautiful rhythm; drumming--I noticed on Friday, trying to teach her--hasn't emerged as her likely forte.

A five-year-old's attention span can be intense (coloring or drawing) or sporadic (sewing, cooking, and making crafts.) If she wants to sew, and if her grandmother takes out the machine, cuts the fabric and lines it all up, this five-year-old may wander off before the presser foot is even lowered to the fabric. She likes the idea of sewing more than she actually likes to do it.

Same with cooking. "Let's make chocolate cupcakes like we used to do when I was three"--means she wants to get her hands in soft butter and sift some flour, then she's off to pretending she's a cougar or something--while I sweep up flour, finish combining the ingredients, cook, and wash the 27 assorted utensils and ingredients she's gathered for her cookery.

"When I grow up, I'm going to be a chef," she announced Friday night, thrice-sifted flour all over her face.

"What other ingredients do you think go into the making of a cake?" I asked.

"Eggs?'

Right.

"That flour I sifted?"

Right.

"Vinegar?"

It's too early to predict whether Elena will ever be a chef, but she's totally present in being a five-year-old, and her grandmother can't keep her eyes off her!